


Ire, thy love is yours

by TheWhitesOfYourEyes



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hope, Multi, Regeneration, Telepathy, dhawan master regenerates into missy headcanon, mentions of clara and yasmin and love, mentions of classic who (sparingly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhitesOfYourEyes/pseuds/TheWhitesOfYourEyes
Summary: An end and a beginning.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/Missy, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), other pairings alluded to
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Ire, thy love is yours

_It’s ironic,_ she thinks from her place on the ground,

(where she belongs)

_that it’s you._ She cannot speak; there is a locket around her neck that shocks her every time she opens her mouth, so she reaches out with her mind, finds static and resistance. Empty and alone in her head, she feels her hands start to glow. She wills it back.

“I’ve never been a woman before,” The Master (Missy, she will come to be) says, admiring her new form. “Does it suit me?” She stretches her fresh arms, wiggling her fingers. Her suit hangs off her in tattered shreds. The explosion killed them both. The Master has never much minded regeneration, the Doctor supposes. It is to him (her) as simple as changing a suit, slipping into a new skin, stealing a body or two

(Nyssa never liked to talk about her father, but the Doctor knew it hurt)

and no matter what, the Master will be in her life, has always been in her life, forever and ever and ever, until the end of days and the end of time and when the universe collapses in on itself, they will be there, battling until there is nothing left but infinity. She is so, so grateful that Yaz and Ryan and Graham are home and happy and _safe_.

So, the Doctor thinks, _it will in time_ , remembering the days when she was Scottish and angry and so full of love and hate and hope for a friend she always thought lost and she thinks, for herself, _next time be happy and be kind and brave and go visit the Netherland Gardens, they’ve always been on your to do list and you’ve never gone and take Yaz with you and tell her how you feel, you feel so strong and so much and its hard but you’ll get it and you’ll be better with people and tell her you love her and say the words_

 _that you never got to tell Clara;_ and she realizes the Master has let her into his (her) mind and has been listening to her thoughts, so she whispers,

_and Missy._

The Masters new eyes widen, pupils dilating, a smile forming on her lips. “Missy,” she tries, her tongue slipping around the syllables like a snake. “It fits quite well.”

The Doctor can feel it coming. She wonders what she will be like next time: man or woman, dark or light, humanoid or alien, long haired, short haired, something in between. It is always a lottery, and in her opinion, she always seems to lose- especially that seventh time, how cruel and smart he was, and during the War, how much she regrets. Gallifrey is dead, or it is not, and sometimes it is burning and sometimes it is thriving and no matter what the children are screaming in fear or in fun and she thinks _they deserve better than me_.

Her hearts are filled with love and hate, and she looks at the Master with tears in her eyes. Her left lung has been punctured- unlike an energy weapon or poison or radiation or any other method of death, this is something she cannot put off. Blood fills her throat, and her two hearts pump hard in her chest, and she chokes on her feelings and her innards in turn. She hates changing more than anything. She hopes beyond hope that the next her or him or they will feel like she feels. _I don’t want to go,_ she thinks, _but I will. Next time, I’ll do better. My hearts will be open and full and I will forgive you, Missy, for all you’ve done and will do and I will love you and cherish you and you will be better, I promise, no matter how hard you try to deny it._

“Better?” The Master says, her skin still glowing with excess energy. “Oh, dearie, you’re so cute with your hopes and your dreams. I could kiss the thought right out of you.” The Master pauses, thinking over her words. ‘Oh look, I’m flirty. That’s new.” She smirks down at the Doctor, admiring how her chest heaves with every breath she takes.

And the Master pulls forth a remote, presses a button. The locket the Doctor has been wearing falls off with a sizzle of energy and she gasps for breath while spitting out blood. “And merciful, apparently. How I long to hear your voice, Doctor.” She smirks. Her teeth are pure white, untarnished. “I want me to be the last thing you see.”

“Missy,” the Doctor croaks through a mouthful of blood, and the Master quirks an eyebrow. Her gaze is full of love and hate and the Doctor can’t decide which is more appropriate for the feeling deep in her chest. She can barely breathe. She feels herself slipping. “You’re better than this.”

The Master pauses, thinks for a moment. Her fingers twitch, the sides of her mouth twitching in turn, but the Doctor can’t concentrate on much, her body is giving in and out and she can’t control it so she focuses on the Masters thoughts and can only hear glimpses of words like _Doctor_ and _hate_ and _friend_ and _Koschei_ and _want you missed you_ and she can barely hear the Master say “You think so? You believe that? You’re worse than an idiot- you’re a fool.”

And Missy laughs as the Doctor lets go, glowing yellow and orange and gold in the smoldering ruins of their home world she destroyed and saved and destroyed again and again and sa ve d an d d es troy ed a nd sa ve d and de s t ro ye d an d s ave e d a n d a ll at on ce

She is new.

**Author's Note:**

> https://gemrust.tumblr.com/  
> dat me  
> im love missy


End file.
